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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23614864">i have seen what the darkness does (say goodbye to who i was)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphicbecca/pseuds/sapphicbecca'>sapphicbecca</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Established Relationship, F/F, and jon &amp; daisy being best friends and listening to the archers, bit of a character study as well, ft canon-typical s4 jon yearning over martin, mostly just a look at daisy's return from the buried and what changed for her and basira!!, sad/bittersweet ending because of canon, takes place immediately post mag132, with spoilers up to mag 160</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:26:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,156</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23614864</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphicbecca/pseuds/sapphicbecca</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Just - just what?” Daisy asked. She didn’t know why everything she’d suppressed the last few weeks was suddenly bubbling up, but there was no stopping it as it all began to topple over and pour out of her. “Because, even when you can stand to look at me, Basira, it feels like you’re not - it’s like you don’t see me.” </p><p>--</p><p>Daisy changed a lot in the Buried. It doesn't sit quite right with Basira.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Jonathan Sims &amp; Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims - Background</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>77</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. i took a little journey to the unknown</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hi!! first i just wanted to say a VERY LARGE thank-you to <a href="https://celestielles.tumblr.com">@celestielles</a> on tumblr for reading this over for me and making sure it was coherent!! thank you so much!!<br/>second, just as a heads-up, this piece does center around daisy and the buried, and there are going to be lots of in-depth descriptions of what the buried was like and the claustrophobia that came with it<br/>that's about it and thank you for reading!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>i took a little journey to the unknown</em> <em><br/>
</em> <em>and i come back changed, i can feel it in my bones</em> <em><br/>
</em> <em>i fucked with the forces that our eyes can't see</em> <em><br/>
</em> <em>now the darkness got a hold on me</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>It had been eight months since Basira had seen Daisy. </p>
<p>She’d been alone, sitting in her hospital bed when the news from the Unknowing began to flow in, only able to hear snippets of conversation from the hospital staff and sectioned officers rushing past her door and read short texts from Martin detailing the situation so far. Her heart plummeted with every new scrap of information she was able to get her bandaged hands on. </p>
<p>Tim was dead. </p>
<p>Jon was comatose.</p>
<p>Daisy was missing. </p>
<p>No explanation, no reason, no body. Daisy was just - <em> gone.  </em></p>
<p>When Basira had escaped the Unknowing, she had done it alone. She reasoned her way out by herself, for once forging ahead without her partner, and now Daisy was gone. Maybe it was selfish or cruel of Basira to think of that fate as the worst out of all the misfortunes to come out of the Unknowing, but she didn’t care. It was undoubtedly the hardest for her to stomach, when there was no doubt that Tim was dead, because they’d found what was left of him in the rubble, and even if no one knew when Jon would wake up, if ever, at least if Basira wanted to she could go with Martin to see his unbreathing body in the hospital, but Daisy… </p>
<p>There was just nothing left of Daisy. Nothing to see or find in the ruins of the Unknowing, nothing to put on a hospital bed to cry by, nothing to bury in the cold and damp earth. There was no news, no information, no change, and soon, no choice but to assume the worst as the time ticked by. A week passed. Then a month, then two, and Basira finally had to let herself believe it. Daisy wasn’t coming back, and Basira had lost her partner, from the force and after, the one person she knew she could trust through the worst of what they’d seen together, the one she could lean on, could count on. </p>
<p>Sometimes, back when she was able to safely leave the Archives for at least a day or two, she’d sit in her empty flat and count off all the parts of Daisy she’d never see again. All the things the Stranger’s failed ritual had taken from her. </p>
<p>To start, she’d lost Daisy’s unwavering loyalty, her ferocity, her dutiful protection, and her strength. Basira would never again stand back-to-back with Daisy in a fight, would never be able to rely on Daisy’s ability to defend them both. </p>
<p>She’d never see Daisy’s eyes again, for she had lost those as well, pale and narrowed, and she’d lost Daisy’s hair, which had always hung just long to tuck behind her ears when they shared a rare quiet moment. The memories of Daisy’s hands ran rampant through her mind, for Basira had lost those also, and now she often soaked herself in those memories, thinking of the feeling of them running over her in the dark, holding her back from a fight, and possessively gripping her hand. She’d lost the faint splash of freckles over Daisy’s nose, lost Daisy’s arms to cling onto, and she’d lost Daisy’s mouth, the way it smirked when leaning in to steal a quick teasing kiss, and how it turned down into a rough growl in the heat of a fight. Basira had lost Daisy, lost every single piece of her that stacked up in the woman she’d loved and admired, and none of it was ever going to come back. </p>
<p>Of <em> course, </em> Basira had known there’d be risks. She wasn’t naive. She’d known going into the Unknowing was likely deadly, that one or both of them wouldn’t make it out alive. She’d known if it hadn’t been the Unknowing to take Daisy from her, it’d be something else later down the line, something just as horrific, maybe worse. </p>
<p>But what she hadn’t accounted for was the <em> hope. </em> The stubborn, stupid hope that, despite all Basira’s sharp logic, all her level-headed reasoning, stayed lit inside her even as time pressed hurriedly on. She couldn’t manage to quiet the constant pleading inside her, couldn’t silence the begging for those investigating the site to manage to move across the right piece of rubble, in just the right spot, to just find Daisy, injured and perhaps even weakened, but <em> alive </em>. </p>
<p>They’d found Tim. They’d found Jon. So where could Daisy have gone? </p>
<p>Basira hadn’t known what to do with that awful shred of longing that still lingered in her, even once months had passed and they’d stopped examining the wreckage. Because they hadn’t found Daisy yet, so <em> maybe </em> she was okay, <em> maybe </em>she got out of the Unknowing alone, too, and she’d just had to go somewhere else, somewhere safe. </p>
<p>Somewhere without Basira. </p>
<p>But for the most part, Basira had to ignore that tiny voice that whispered those soft <em> maybe’s </em> and <em> what-if’s </em>to her, because she knew Daisy was dead. She knew her partner remained lost among the debris, or else had been destroyed completely in the explosion.</p>
<p>It had been eight months. Basira was never going to see Daisy again. </p>
<p>She also wasn't, unfortunately, in a position to stop everything, to break down and properly grieve. Life at the Archives tumbled on, and Basira found she desperately needed that someone to lean on again. Her future seemed to hold nothing but an unending battle against the evil gripping the Institute, and she couldn’t fight that alone. But she blinked, and suddenly the camaraderie formed in the grief that infused the Archives began to crack and splinter all around her. Martin’s mother died and Basira watched helplessly as he started drifting off into fog-filled shadows with the ever-elusive Peter Lukas, and when the Flesh attacked Melanie began throwing her anger around at anyone who stared a little too long, and Basira was alone. </p>
<p>Christ, she was <em> so </em>alone. </p>
<p>Maybe that’s why she didn’t welcome Jon back with open arms when he finally woke up. Aside from the fact that she couldn’t really trust a man who’d woken up from a six-month unbreathing coma feeling essentially fine, she’d finally managed to grow used to being on her own, and Basira couldn't afford to try to make Jon someone to lean on if he was going to go the same way as Melanie and Martin, too focused on one thing, too caught up in a single Fear, a single power, to fight the broader picture that it sometimes seemed only she could see. </p>
<p>Maybe that’s why she was willing to go along with the wild goose chases Elias sent her on. The thought of having Daisy back, a pillar to help hold Basira up through all the madness at the Institute, was something like a beacon, a bright light that cut through the past few dark months, near-blinding to look at amidst the murkiness swimming in her thoughts. On her long travels crisscrossing the continent, Basira often couldn’t breathe quite right, lost in her thoughts and picturing a Daisy that had been returned to her, sitting in the next seat over, fighting alongside her in a battle, or holding her in the dead of night. </p>
<p>Maybe that’s why she panicked when Melanie told her about the tape she’d found, the one Jon had left for them, detailing where he’d gone while Basira wasn’t there to stop him. She couldn’t lean on Jon, but in that frenzied moment, she found she also couldn’t lose him to the same thing that had taken Daisy, and suddenly she was running down after them, yelling as she descended the stairs into the basement.</p>
<p>“Jon, you stupid idiot! What did you think- ” Basira stormed into Jon’s office, not knowing what to expect, but well-aware that she’d probably be walking into an empty room anyway, save for the coffin, and-</p>
<p>“Hi,” a faint voice said. </p>
<p>Basira did not see an empty office. </p>
<p>She saw Daisy. She saw Daisy. She saw <em> Daisy.  </em></p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Time didn’t pass quite right while she was underground. The swells of fear, the closing in, and the slow exhalation of the dirt weren’t enough to mark the passing of minutes and hours and days, and anyway, it wasn’t long before Daisy lost track of how many times the soil around her had breathed in and tightened, holding her stock still before loosening its grip just the tiniest bit - just enough for her to breathe again, just enough for her to stay scared. And she <em> was </em>scared. She was more terrified than she’d ever been in her life - although she wasn’t quite sure she was still alive. This certainly wasn’t any real version of living. </p>
<p>It took awhile for Daisy to feel the change, what with the constant ebb and flow of fear and of the choking embrace around her. She didn’t know whether it had been just a day, or a week, or a month, or maybe a whole year, but during one of the quieter moments, when the dirt receded back a little further, when she was able to breathe a little deeper, she realized what was missing. The constant dull thumping in her ears, the sound of blood pumping through her veins, the signal and the call and beckoning of the Hunt, of the ongoing chase was gone. At some point since she’d gotten stuck down here, the bloodlust that so often raged inside her had lessened and slipped away. She couldn’t feel the frenzied need to kill and attack, couldn’t feel her blood, couldn’t find the desire to start a new chase. It felt as though somebody had reached inside her and scooped out half of her heart. If Daisy focused, if she strained to hear, to listen to that call, she found she could catch an iron-tinged taste of the blood in the stagnant air of the earth around her, but she also found that…she didn’t want to. Not anymore. </p>
<p>As that revelation swept through her, ice-cold and stickily warm all at once, as her body became wracked with sobs, and tears poured down her face that should have been wept long ago, the earth’s sweet singing started once more, and Daisy was gripped in its chokehold. Her gasping cries cut off as the musty earth pressed in too close, and then she couldn’t breathe. </p>
<p>The earth around her, though, breathed in and out, and time passed in some uncountable manner, and at some point Daisy began to lose feeling in her legs. They were becoming numb beneath the weight of the world sitting atop her. She tried to fold in on herself once, tried to wrap her arms protectively around her body, but she couldn’t move a single limb. The dirt had her pinned down. Sometimes she tapped a finger along her thigh, desperate to feel anything, and found the only sensation she was rewarded was the brush of fabric against the tip of her thumb. </p>
<p>Occasionally, during quieter moments, when the squeeze of the earth had been away for awhile and she grew bolder and a bit reckless, Daisy wondered if the boredom might be the actual worst part of her dilemma. It was just that she had nothing to <em> do, </em>really, except be frightened, but even the fear faded to some horrific normalcy. Daisy would still dread when the chokehold would push back in, would still fear that this time, it wouldn’t ever stop, but she knew it was always coming, and she knew she would keep surviving it, for to slip away into an endless rest would mean less fear for the dirt gripping her to feed on.</p>
<p>In quieter moments, she would play back her memories like rewinding a tape, for she had nothing else to do but to close her eyes to relive every minute she could recall. </p>
<p>Daisy remembered she hated being stuck inside when she was a kid. Growing up, she spent her summers outside, chasing frogs and lizards through the woods behind her yard. She would always be disappointed, though, when she managed to squeeze her arm through two tree branches or push through a scraggly bush and curl her small fingers around a defeated-looking toad or a frantically scrabbling salamander, because it meant the fun part was over. After that, she’d just have to let the poor animal go, because bringing it home would mean a stern look and “I thought I told you not to bring those inside the house, Alice,” from her mother, who would then instruct her to thoroughly wash her hands until they shone. </p>
<p>When Daisy was eleven, she had a best friend named Calvin Benchley, and on the same day he gave her the scar on her back and the nickname she carried with it, she saw the first two dead bodies she’d ever see, standing side by side with him. Just about two decades later, he’d become the first person she would ever kill, because he was causing too much trouble for her and the police. </p>
<p>When Daisy was on the force, she felt strong. She <em> was </em>strong. That feeling only intensified during her second year on the force after she’d gotten sectioned, after her old partner had walked headfirst into the coffin. Daisy didn’t like to think about the coffin back then, or about her old partner, didn’t like to dwell on the way it must press on him, squeezing from all sides. </p>
<p>She had hoped he was dead. But she knew better. </p>
<p>When Daisy signed her form and got officially sectioned, the blood began to pound in her ears, loud enough that she could hear it, <em> really </em> hear it, and then the chase was on. She was given more and more difficult assignments, quickly becoming an asset and gaining trust. Soon, she was able to hunt with hardly any limits, just given a name or a face and told to either bring the person in or make them disappear - the force didn’t care either way. Daisy would snatch the assignment and disappear until the chase had finished. She was going from one case to another, taking down monster after monster, always jumping onto the next case before she got bored, before the thrill of the Hunt began to grow stale. She was powerful, and she was in control, and the blood that thumped in her ears and ran through her veins felt <em> so </em>good. </p>
<p>Six years ago, Basira was sectioned and began to work alongside Daisy. She was sharp and rational and tough, with a handful of dry wit and attitude to boot, but Daisy could see she was clearly still rattled by her sectioning. She at least knew what lay ahead for a sectioned officer, and began to take more and more of the dangerous and more gruesome calls alone, to spare Basira from the worst parts of being sectioned, from the ruthless executions she willingly conducted in the woods. The pounding blood didn’t stop when Basira became her partner, but now, Daisy had someone to protect. She found herself redirecting tiny bits of the Hunt within her, throwing her excess energy not used up by tracking and hunting into shielding Basira not just from the worst of the monsters, but from the thick current of the Hunt that flowed through the rest of the police force. </p>
<p>Her protection didn’t work forever though, or maybe it worked too well, and when Basira quit the force after that disastrous raid where Maxwell Rayner was finally killed, the blood came rushing back to Daisy in full force. She’d managed to distract part of it for years, still chasing but carving a little bit of herself out and putting it aside for Basira, but Basira was gone now. That extra carved slice of Daisy snapped back into her like a rubber band and when, a few weeks later, she was called to investigate a murder back at that <em>creepy </em>Institute, she was practically frothing at the mouth, gleefully toting her full operational discretion, and waiting for the chase to begin. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The thing was, Daisy thought, as the earth drew itself in once more, that she barely recognized the woman and the girl who stomped through her memories, always running after the next thing she’d determined was out of reach until she had it in her grip. It had been so long since she’d chased anything, although she had no actual idea how long it’d actually been, that the idea of a hunt no longer held the appeal it once did. She tried to feel for the exhilaration of a chase, but those feelings just bounced back empty and hollow. </p>
<p>Daisy wished she could say it wasn’t fair. She wished she could shake her fists with fury and scream about the injustice of being stuck down here, aching and exhausted with terror, but the fact remained that she wouldn’t believe her own words. It was fair, because she did deserve to be down here. She still had no idea where the hell she was, how could she? The last thing she remembered was the utter confusion of the Unknowing, of being certain in her plan and how it would work, and then suddenly realizing nothing was anything anymore. But Daisy figured she must have died. She must be in hell, or something worse, and this was her punishment for getting infected by the Hunt, this was her punishment for using the force to hurt so many people. Not everyone she killed was a monster, after all. It only made sense. </p>
<p>She just wished she didn’t feel so human down here.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Daisy continued to live inside her mind during the rests between the gripping of the earth around her, and she thought about the sky, and she thought about Basira. </p>
<p>Three years ago, Basira had kissed her after a particularly difficult case had finally come to a close. Daisy had headed back to the car, glaring at all the passersby, the satisfaction of the capture long since faded, now seething in the disappointment of the end of another chase. They’d both fallen, bruised and exhausted, into the front seats, Daisy at the wheel. Basira had leaned over and laid a hand on Daisy’s as she tried, frustrated, to jam in the key. Basira muttered something, something witty or silly that Daisy couldn’t remember anymore. She hadn’t bothered to pay enough attention to remember, then. Daisy had huffed a laugh in return, and turned to just quickly glance at Basira, but Basira was leaning over already, her hand turning to cup Daisy’s cheek. Daisy drove them both back to her place shortly after. </p>
<p>From that point on, Basira did almost all her cases with Daisy. Daisy did almost all of hers with Basira - or she did them alone, in secret. </p>
<p>Daisy closed her eyes as the memories continued. She wished she had more to go through, wished she’d bothered to spend more time with Basira when she’d been able to. She was going to be down here forever. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Time passed. Daisy couldn’t count the seconds or the days or the years. She was beginning to lose herself. She didn’t know what Basira looked like anymore. She barely remembered what <em> she </em>looked like. All she knew, for certain, was the squeeze of the earth. She’d run through her memories so many times, they began to fade, like she’d worn them out. Nothing was much of anything anymore. </p>
<p>She was still in the earth, and the rough dirt around her had just begun to sing its sweet song when Daisy heard something else - something new. </p>
<p>“Daisy! J- Daisy!” </p>
<p>Daisy’s eyes widened. She <em>knew </em>that voice. It had been one of the last she’d heard before the Unknowing. </p>
<p>“Jon!” She yelled back, voice scratchy from misuse, immediately frantic and struggling in place to get closer to the sound of his voice, to get closer to another person, another <em> real </em>person- </p>
<p>Daisy knew it wasn’t a hallucination. If her mind had cracked and decided to start lying to her like that, it would have been Basira next to her.</p>
<p>“Daisy, can you reach me?” </p>
<p>“I can’t - can’t see you.” </p>
<p>“Follow my voice.” </p>
<p>Daisy grunted as she pushed her arm out, searching, and finally her fingertips brushed up against scarred skin. “Is that-? I - I can’t-” </p>
<p>“Ah-” </p>
<p>“You - you’re real,” Daisy said, choking on a sob, “you’re <em> real.”  </em></p>
<p>“Yes,” Jon said (Jon said, <em> Jon said, </em> because there was someone else down here with her-) “I’m here, Daisy.” </p>
<p>“Daisy,” Daisy said slowly. She blinked. “Yeah. Daisy. That’s me. ” </p>
<p>“Are you alright?” </p>
<p>“I - I-” Daisy struggled against her words. “I can’t move, I-I can’t - and I can’t breathe,”</p>
<p>“Oh, god.” </p>
<p>“Just - <em> alone.”  </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jon had a plan. He had an anchor up in the real world, but when he reached out to it, nothing came back, so they stayed stuck in the dirt - or the Buried, as Jon called it. It didn’t make Daisy feel much better to know her prison had a name. But she wasn’t alone anymore. That’s all she cared about.</p>
<p>Time passed immeasurably before something changed. The Buried rushed in and out, and during a more peaceful moment, Jon felt it. He found the way home, and they pushed and crawled out of the coffin together, and then Daisy looked up and saw Basira. </p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh my god,” Basira said. She gripped the doorframe, legs beginning to shake and sway beneath her, because <em> there, </em>in front of her, was Daisy. </p>
<p>Daisy was <em> alive, </em> and she was <em> here, </em>and right in front of Basira, and she was alive, and she was- </p>
<p>The thoughts ran endlessly through her mind like tape on a reel. Daisy was utterly filthy and emaciated and trembling, but she was real and so much more alive than Basira had dared to hope these past eight months. She let go of the doorframe and pitched forward suddenly, rushing closer to fall and kneel in front of Daisy on the cold tile floor, not even wincing when her knees knocked hard against the unforgiving floor. She eagerly reached out and grabbed onto Daisy, pulling her close, leaning into her and onto her. Her movements were frantic and clumsy, feeling as though she was trying to mold herself up into Daisy, like she was trying to prove to herself that Daisy was real and solid and herself. The surge of emotion ringing around her head was beginning to flow in an overload, spilling out in a mess all around her. </p>
<p>Basira had no idea what the normal was for this, or how she was even supposed to properly act in a situation like this, so she waited for Daisy to grab back on, ferocious and wild, passionate and strong, like she always was. Basira had no idea what normal was, but she was sure it wasn’t for Daisy to start suddenly, give a weak sound of protest, and try feebly to wriggle out of her grip. Basira let go,  retreating immediately, and stared at Daisy.</p>
<p>“Sorry,” Daisy said, in more of a half-gasped whisper than anything else, drawing her thin arms protectively around her grimy body, “it’s just - too close.” </p>
<p>“Right,” Basira said, and her mind went suddenly blank as she tried to remember everything she’d read on the Buried, in statements, in her own research. None of them had concerned such prolonged encounters, though, and none could explain or prepare her for the pale ghost of a woman quivering in front of her. But that - but that wasn’t right, Basira thought, that <em> couldn’t </em> be right, because Daisy didn’t <em> quiver. </em> She was the strongest person Basira knew, always had been, but right now she looked like she could be knocked over by a slightly gusty breeze, by a punch thrown by a child. She’d never seen Daisy like this, not in all their years together on the force, facing some of the most terrifying and messed-up shit Basira had ever seen. The sight of this new Daisy made sudden streaks of unbridled terror run up her throat because Basira knew instantly, lowering her own shaky hands back to her side, that this scared her more than anything she’d ever seen before in her life. After all, who was Daisy when she’d lost her strength and her gravity, when she needed to be held up instead of being leaned on, when a hug was <em> too close? </em>Who was Daisy when the rough edge had slipped out of her already-soft voice, and all that was left was a hushed murmur? Who was Daisy when she was missing so much of herself? </p>
<p>Basira had only had Daisy back for mere moments, barely more than a minute or so, but she realized, staring at her old partner slumped on the floor in front of her, while the undiluted elation in her stomach slowly sank into a solid and weighty block of dread, that she couldn’t quite recognize her anymore. Not like this. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Daisy wasn’t able to stand, and Jon was near the same, but he insisted on staying in his office to recover, so Basira half-dragged, half-carried Daisy to the camp bed she’d set up by the tunnel entrances. When she propped Daisy up on the cot and moved to grab medical supplies, a pillow, <em> something, </em>she could feel the grime of the Buried now coating her hands, and turned away to grimace. </p>
<p>“Alright, what can I…what can I do, or get, or- ?”  Basira turned back to Daisy and wiped her palms on her jeans. </p>
<p>Daisy sat, a tiny silhouette on Basira’s messy cot. She used to take up so much space, Basira thought, not just physically, but in her demeanor. You always knew when Daisy had walked into a room, because she would fill up every corner of it, solid and loud and present. Now she seemed determined to melt away, only a carved out sliver of herself left, invisible and unnoticeable. </p>
<p>“I - I don’t…” Daisy bit her lip and glanced around helplessly. Basira held in a sigh, then edged closer and kneeled down by the cot. </p>
<p>“Listen, we’ll be calling a doctor, a physical therapist, something, soon, but until then - how can I help? What do you need?” </p>
<p>Daisy blinked and she glanced down at her grime-covered body. “Get the dirt off,” she said.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>That was easier said than done. The only showers in the Institute were upstairs, and Daisy was in no condition to be scaling the steep staircase, not to mention how impractical it’d be for Basira to prop her up and properly cleanse her in the narrow stalls available. Basira instead settled for grabbing a sponge and an old ratty towel from her ever-growing pile of overnight supplies for the Archives, and filled an old bowl from the break room with lukewarm water. She carried her makeshift cleaning materials back to Daisy, who’d stripped out of her ruined leather jacket and jeans, dressed just in her tattered tank top and the too-big athletic shorts Basira lent her. She’d kicked off her resilient, albeit muddy boots, and they lay next to Basira’s sneakers by the edge of the cot. The image of two pairs of shoes, propped up next to each other, even in the furthest possible situation from a relaxed domestic life, made something tighten in Basira’s throat, and she quickly turned away, pretending to busy herself so Daisy wouldn’t see her face. </p>
<p>Basira moved back and came closer, sitting delicately on the end of the cot, opposite Daisy, and placed the bowl of water between them. “Alright, where should I start?” she asked, wetting the end of the towel. When Daisy was this wholly caked in mud and dirt, like an entire second layer of skin covering her whole body, there wasn’t a clear starting point of where she could begin to wipe away at the mess. </p>
<p>“Anywhere.”   </p>
<p>“Right,” Basira said. She reached out hesitantly, and landed on Daisy’s shoulder, somewhere near and easy. She pressed the cloth into Daisy’s shoulder, trying to find that perfect mix of enough firmness to fully clean the skin, but enough gentleness as to not hurt Daisy in any way. </p>
<p>
  <em> Oh.  </em>
</p>
<p>She’d never thought of Daisy as something that could be breakable before. </p>
<p>The skin underneath the layer of dirt was raw and pink. Occasionally, Daisy would suck in a sharp breath, and Basira would know she’d hit a more sensitive spot, and she’d move over to scrubbing elsewhere, switch to somewhere safer, leave that spot for later. Eventually, she’d finished cleaning off most of Daisy’s chest and both arms, and went to clean off the towel and refill the bowl. </p>
<p>When she came back, she found Daisy examining her mostly-clean arms like they were a novelty. Her pale eyes shone as she traced her own arms with a shaking finger, fingernail still dirty underneath. Basira tried to smile when she saw that. She didn’t quite manage.</p>
<p>“Feeling better?” she asked. </p>
<p>Daisy nodded. “It helps…a lot. Thank you.” </p>
<p>“Of course,” Basira said. She brought the bowl up on the cot and then sat across from Daisy once more. “Okay if we try to do your face?” </p>
<p>“Please,” Daisy said. </p>
<p>Basira wet the corner of the towel, then leaned forward, even more cautious than before. She started on Daisy’s cheeks, moving the towel with gentle circular motions until the dirt began to break down and rub away. She then moved it over her nose, her forehead, her lips, her jaw, and all the in-between spaces, and then, ever so delicately, began to wipe at Daisy’s thin eyelids. Daisy stayed still, breathing evenly, her eyes fluttering closed when needed. Basira couldn't help but notice the old splash of freckles across Daisy’s nose had nearly completely faded away. </p>
<p>She finished the edges of Daisy’s face, and sat back. She examined her work for a moment, and they were both silent. Then Basira put down the towel, moved the bowl off the cot and onto the floor, and scooted closer to Daisy, who opened her eyes, sending Basira a questioning squint. </p>
<p>Basira reached out with one hand, and laid it on Daisy’s freshly scrubbed cheek, and Daisy leaned into it, letting out a low breath and looking up in Basira’s eyes. Basira brushed her thumb over Daisy’s dirt-stained lips, the movement achingly slow, while Daisy continued to stare at her. Their eyes met, and Daisy, almost imperceptibly, gave a slight nod. Then Basira leaned down and kissed her. </p>
<p>Her other hand reached forward and tangled itself into Daisy’s stringy and discolored hair, which was now longer than Basira had ever seen. She could still taste the remaining specks of dirt and grit clinging to Daisy’s mouth, but she didn’t care. Daisy might look different, act different,<em> be </em> different, but her lips still felt the same, didn’t they? Basira rushed in and opened her mouth to deepen the kiss, suddenly so full of <em> want </em>it hurt, and-</p>
<p>Daisy broke the kiss. She blinked and bit her bottom lip, and looked up at Basira. Her cheeks, already pink from cleaning, were now flushed even deeper.</p>
<p>“Too close?” Basira guessed. </p>
<p>Daisy paused and rubbed her arm. “A little,” she said.</p>
<p>“Right.” Basira moved her hands back awkwardly into her lap. Something snapped shut inside of her, stopping the sudden and reckless surge of emotion she’d felt seconds ago. For a moment, she imagined herself gathering up the leaked bits of her heart she’d accidentally laid down in front of Daisy. It was quite a large mess she had to mop up.</p>
<p>“Sorry,” Daisy said. </p>
<p>“No, it’s-” Basira sighed. She stared at her hands in her lap for a few silent moments, then leaned over the edge of the cot and brought the bowl back up. She picked up the towel and continued wordlessly cleaning the dirt off Daisy, moving to slightly safer places like Daisy’s neck and collarbone. </p>
<p>They stayed quiet for a while, but after another few rounds of silent cleaning, there was a soft rapping at the door. Basira broke her gaze away from Daisy to see who it was. </p>
<p>“Hey,” Jon said. He was standing on his own, and his legs barely shook. </p>
<p>“You can walk.” Basira looked him in the eye. “That was fast.” </p>
<p>Jon shrugged, visibly uncomfortable as he crossed his arms across his thin frame. “I wasn’t in there as long as Daisy and anyway…injuries don’t tend to stick around with me.”</p>
<p>“Of course,” Basira said. </p>
<p>“I just wanted to let you know I called the doctor.” Jon uncrossed his arms, stuck his hands in his pockets. “We could use a professional medical opinion here, I think.” </p>
<p>“You can’t just <em> know </em> how to fix her?” </p>
<p>“It doesn’t work like that, and you know it.” </p>
<p>“Right,” Basira said. She didn’t bother hiding the unimpressed tone in her voice and turned back to Daisy, resuming the gentle scrubbing. “Did you make an appointment, or-?”</p>
<p>“In an hour,” Jon confirmed, “at that physical therapy place down by the park.” </p>
<p>“Alright. I’ll drive her. Are you coming as well?” Basira looked expectantly back up at Jon. </p>
<p>“No,” he said quickly, “I-I’ve got some work here to catch up on. Let me know what the doctor says, though.” </p>
<p>“Yeah, I will.” Basira once more resumed cleaning Daisy, who was still sitting wide-eyed and quiet, and Jon understood the unspoken cue. He nodded, and, hands still stuffed in his pockets, turned and headed back through the dim hallways of the Archives.</p>
<p>Basira continued to rub the dirt off of Daisy as well as she could before it was time to leave to meet the physical therapist. She didn’t have any of Daisy’s clothes in the Archives, so she lent her an old novelty t-shirt from some museum she’d visited years ago, and a pair of sweatpants that used to be too tight for Daisy. Now, like Basira’s old shorts, they seemed to swallow her whole. </p>
<p>They limped out of the Archives, and Basira had to essentially carry Daisy up the stairs, to the main floor of the Institute. They both ignored the stares from other researchers as they walked out, although Basira was sure they must make quite an odd sight. When they stepped out the doors and into the bright afternoon sun, Daisy’s entire body shuddered and nearly collapsed against Basira. </p>
<p>“Woah, hey, are you alright?” Basira asked, knowing the answer before she even finished talking. </p>
<p>“Just…a lot brighter than I remember.” Daisy winced, and, closing her eyes, leaned her face into Basira’s shoulder.</p>
<p>“I should have some sunglasses or something in the car. I’m parked just over there,” Basira said. They resumed the bizarre half-limp half-carry of before, until they reached the passenger door of Basira’s rather beat-up car. She opened the door for Daisy and slowly helped her in, positioning her carefully on the seat. </p>
<p>“Thanks,” Daisy murmured, as Basira leaned over her to grab the seat belt and get it in place.</p>
<p>“‘Course,” Basira said. She opened the glovebox as well and passed Daisy the sunglasses she knew were still in there. She closed that door, walked around to the driver’s side and hopped in. The car came to an uncertain grumbling start when Basira jammed in the keys, and on the console between them, the radio crackled to life. </p>
<p><em> “-that, and next up we’ve got today’s episode of </em> The Archers, <em> which comes after last week’s shocking twist-”  </em></p>
<p>Basira leaned over and quickly turned the radio off. She could feel Daisy, frozen halfway through gliding the sunglasses onto her face, staring at her. </p>
<p>“You’re eight months behind,” Basira said lightly, deciding to focus completely on pulling the car out onto the road, “figure you don’t want to get spoiled before you can get caught up, right?” </p>
<p>“Basira, were you…?”   Daisy let the question hang in the space between them. There was a half-laugh of disbelief and of something a lot sadder suspended in the space between her words. </p>
<p>Basira didn’t say anything. Eight months was a long time, and Basira had done a lot of driving then, especially in these last few weeks as she traversed the continent chasing the dead-ends Elias had fed her, running wherever he’d hinted there might be a clue to helping save Daisy or preventing yet another apocalypse. So it really wasn’t that unbelievable, was it, that in the past three weeks at least, as Basira spent hours alone in her car, desperately trying not to think about Daisy, that maybe she tuned into an oddly familiar radio show, instead of her usual podcasts, to soothe the ache that accompanied the thoughts bubbling up inside her. </p>
<p>Basira didn’t think she really needed to say that, though, so she instead gave Daisy a quick glance and changed the subject. “I looked up the doctor while you were getting changed, and the online reviews seemed reasonable, so I think you’ll be in alright hands, although I don’t exactly know how we’ll explain your…condition.”</p>
<p>“Right,” Daisy said. She didn’t comment on Basira’s obvious deflection, instead just turning to look out the window, sunglasses resting precariously on the bridge of her nose, and the rest of the short drive passed in dense silence.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The doctor had a lot of questions that they couldn’t properly answer, but in the end, she just sighed and handed over a list of exercises and a suggested schedule of physical therapy for Daisy to stick to, to get her legs back to how they used to be, as well as a list of resources for those suffering from severe muscle atrophy. Basira thanked her and then they left, headed back to the Institute as always. Basira was essentially living in the Archives at this point, so Daisy had agreed easily to join her, to stay together while Daisy worked on her exercises. </p>
<p>As the days slowly dragged further, Basira noticed that Daisy seemed to be taking the <em> together </em> part of the exercises far more literally than she was. In fact, Daisy seemed to refuse to do them when Basira wasn’t there with her. Basira tried not to think about this, tried not to think about how most of the exercises could be completed alone, and even for the ones that required a second person to help or watch, that Jon and Melanie were willing and able to help, and far more present and available in the Archives than Basira often was. But she thought about it anyway, until she decided she had to shelve those thoughts and place her focus elsewhere for the time being. She didn’t have time to always look after Daisy, to dwell on her motives. She had <em> so </em>much work to do.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hi and thank you so much for reading!!!<br/>title of the fic, chapter titles, and intro lyrics are all from meet me in the woods by lord huron!<br/>dialogue in this chapter taken from mag132<br/></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. and i come back changed, i can feel it in my bones</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Daisy struggles to adapt to life back at the Archives.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>how long, baby, have i been away?</em>
  <br/>
  <em>oh, it feels like ages though you say it's only days</em>
  <br/>
  <em>there ain't language for the things i've seen, yeah</em>
  <br/>
  <em>and the truth is stranger than my own worst dreams</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Jon, is that her?” </p>
<p>“What?” </p>
<p>“You’ve had people switch before, right? Replaced.” </p>
<p>“I mean, s-sure, but- ”</p>
<p>“How sure are you that’s the real Daisy?” </p>
<p>“Uh, I - I’m sure, Basira. Th-that’s her.” </p>
<p>“But do you - do you <em> know? </em>” </p>
<p>“Yes. <em> Why? </em>” </p>
<p>“Hm.” </p>
<p><em>“Talk </em>to me, Basira, is she  - wrong in some way?”</p>
<p>“No. No, she still sounds like her. Says things Daisy would say, laughs like her. She just seems…lost. I…I <em> want </em>it to be her.” </p>
<p>“Do you?”   </p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>The camp bed really was too small for both of them to share. Neither cared, of course, but there were still nights when the draping of limbs over bodies and the tangling of legs caused Daisy to wake up abruptly, thrown back to dirt on all sides, growing ever darker and closer. She would always hold her breath, try to choke down the sobs to avoid waking Basira, and carefully wriggle out of the entanglement they’d created of arms and blankets and pillows. Usually she’d pace the dimly lit hallway outside until she grew tired and calm enough to return, figuring it to at least be good practice, a simple exercise for her legs. </p>
<p>That night, Daisy hadn’t even been able to fall asleep. Next to her, Basira’s breathing was even, and her arm was laid casually on top of Daisy’s shoulder. Daisy took a shuddering breath in and squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her face into the nape of Basira’s neck, trying desperately to have her thoughts slow down and let her drift off into sleep. But the darkness was starting to shrink around her, constricting and too full of that flat and musty scent of soil, so Daisy slowly and carefully slid out from under Basira’s arm, and threw on the oversized jacket slung over the chair nearby. She stumbled a bit as she slunk out of the makeshift bedroom and into the dim hallway, grateful for even the feeble light the flickering ceiling lamps provided. Even if the hallways out here were narrow, at least she could see just how exactly narrow they were. In the dark, there was no way to know just how closely the walls might be pressing in on her. </p>
<p>There was one room down at the end of the hallway with the light still shining under the door, despite it being- Daisy glanced at her watch- roughly two in the morning. She shuffled down towards the room, linoleum floor cold against her socked feet, and could hear the whirring of tape recorders and the scratching of pen on paper on the other side of the door. She held her breath and hovered in front of the door frame for a moment, hastily dwelling over a decision, before knocking, once, softly. </p>
<p>“Who- ?” A chair was pushed back, footsteps grew closer, and Jon opened the door. “Oh. Daisy.” </p>
<p>“Hi,” Daisy said. She stuck her hands in the large jacket pockets.</p>
<p>“Can I…?” Jon looked up at her. </p>
<p>“Couldn’t sleep. And your light was on.” Daisy shrugged, then hesitated. “I’m not…interrupting anything, or- ?” </p>
<p>“No, no,” Jon said, and he stood aside, inviting her in, “I’ve just been doing some, er, research…on the Lonely.”  </p>
<p>“Oh. Why?” </p>
<p>Jon paced back behind his desk and fidgeted with the clutter lying there before he replied, straightening a pile of paper, putting a pen back into a mug. “Martin,” he finally said, as though that was an answer. </p>
<p>“Sorry?” Daisy leaned against the wall and began to stretch her legs. </p>
<p>“Basira hasn’t told you yet?” Jon moved over to the front of the desk and hopped up to sit on its edge, turning to face Daisy. </p>
<p>Daisy shook her head. “We don’t talk much.” </p>
<p>“Right.” Jon sighed. “Have you noticed it's pretty much just us, Basira, and Melanie in the Archives these days? Martin doesn’t…he’s not exactly here, anymore.” </p>
<p>“I thought you guys couldn't quit,” Daisy said, frowning. </p>
<p>“We <em> can’t,” </em>Jon said, “and Martin didn’t. He’s been…working with the new Head of the Institute, Peter Lukas, who is mentioned in multiple statements about the Lonely. And now, Martin clearly isn’t allowed to speak to us, or know what we’re doing, or who’s back, or where or-” Jon took a shaky breath and sighed again. </p>
<p>“Shit,” Daisy said. </p>
<p>Jon’s shoulders slumped and he breathed a faint laugh. “Yeah,” he said. </p>
<p>“How long has he been-” Daisy made a vague hand gesture- “working, or whatever, with Lukas?” </p>
<p>“Four, five months now? Since before I woke up, anyway.” Jon ran his fingers distractedly through his hair.</p>
<p>“So, he’s really in it.”</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>“But he’s still around, in the Institute?” Daisy asked.</p>
<p>Jon nodded wearily. “I tried to talk to him a few times after I first got back, since I couldn’t stop Knowing where he was, but he made it clear right away he didn’t want to talk to me.” </p>
<p>“Yeah. I guess I get that,” Daisy said. Her legs were beginning to ache from all the stretching, so she crossed the room, and sat down on the floor, leaning against the desk. </p>
<p>Jon blinked and then slid off the edge where he’d been perched, joining her on the cold floor. “Do you?” </p>
<p>“It’s like…” Daisy sighed. “You get back from this horrible, awful, life-changing thing, and there’s only one person you need to see and talk to and be with, and they just - don’t want that.” </p>
<p>“Basira wants to see you,” Jon said softly. </p>
<p>“Does she?” Daisy snapped. “Because everytime I’m with her, she looks at me like I - like I’m still dead, o-or like I’ve got something wrong with me. Like she thinks there’s a piece of me missing.” </p>
<p>Jon turned sharply. “She doesn’t think that.” </p>
<p>“I mean, she’s not wrong, though, is she?” Daisy said, and Jon said nothing in reply, so she pressed forward unchallenged. “She wants the old me, the me that was full of the Hunt, that couldn’t hear anything but the blood rushing in my ears, the me that wasn’t dealing with muscle atrophy after being stuck underground for eight months. But that me is gone.” </p>
<p>“She wants her partner,” Jon said. He tossed Daisy an uncomfortable glance. “The one who had her back.” </p>
<p>“I still have her back,” Daisy retorted, her voice sharp and sniping, but lacking any real venom behind it. “I will always have her back, whenever I can, but right now my support doesn’t actually help. She tries to lean on me, and I just <em> crumble </em> underneath her.” Daisy exhaled and dropped her head against the wood of the desk. </p>
<p>“Daisy…”</p>
<p>“Christ, I just…” Daisy groaned and rubbed her stinging eyes. “I’m sorry you both went through so much to get me out of there, when you didn’t get back the person you went looking for.” </p>
<p>“On the contrary,” Jon said drily, “and as I’ve told Basira, I found exactly who I was looking for. We didn’t bring you out of the Buried to become an asset. We brought you out to <em> save </em>you.” </p>
<p>“Maybe you did,” Daisy murmured, “but Basira…”</p>
<p>“Have you actually talked to her about any of this?” Jon asked. “I mean, maybe she doesn’t realize, or-” </p>
<p>Daisy laughed humorlessly. “I told you, we don’t really talk. It’s just…exercises, or planning, or sleeping, if she’s even here. You know as well as I do she’s still out chasing some lead on something else every other day.”</p>
<p>“I suppose you’re right about that,” Jon said, “but you weren’t here before. You should have seen her face when she found out you were still alive. She was ready to do anything she thought would get you safely out of there.” </p>
<p>Daisy didn’t reply to that, instead giving a low hum in the back of her throat and closing her eyes. Jon followed her lead and fell silent as well, just tapping his fingers restlessly against the floorboard.</p>
<p>Daisy <em> knew </em>Jon was right, she knew Basira wanted her, cared for her, but…there was a part of Daisy that refused to believe it. </p>
<p>It was just that when all Basira had clearly so achingly missed and craved was intimacy, support, and closeness, and when all Daisy desperately needed was to get out of the closeness, to breathe out of the grip of everything surrounding her, the two of them trying to fit their new selves back together was like trying to put together puzzle pieces you could have sworn came from the same kit, only to find they belonged to much different sets.  When Basira would reach out, Daisy would shrink back, and Basira would look away while Daisy looked down, feeling the shame rise in her throat like bile. And sometimes, the way Basira would look at her…like she wasn’t seeing Daisy at all. Like she was reminiscing about or grieving a person still standing in front of her. </p>
<p>And it wasn’t that Daisy didn’t <em> want </em>the closeness, the nearness of Basira to her, because she did, and she wanted it so bad she could feel it sitting in her chest, the tender ache spread down her ribs and over her heart. When she was there though, in the moment, laying in bed tangled up in Basira, even one of Basira’s fingers, laid gently on Daisy’s wrist, would become too heavy once more. Daisy’s lungs would fill with sickly sweet soil and specks of dirt would worm their way underneath her eyelids and the whole room would press down on her, and she’d just have to get away as quickly as she could. That’s how she ended up in this office, after all. </p>
<p>But she didn’t come here to think about Basira.</p>
<p>“Tell me more about Martin,” Daisy said softly. </p>
<p>“What? Why?” Jon craned his head to look at her.</p>
<p>“Can’t sleep. Stuck here. Don’t want to talk about Basira anymore. Might as well just listen to you talk about something you’re obviously still hung up on.” Daisy paused. “And I did interrupt your <em> research, </em> I guess.”</p>
<p>Jon muttered something indistinct, then sat up a little straighter. “I mean - what do you want to know? I’ve barely seen him in the two, three months I’ve been awake. And when I do see him, it isn’t-” He broke off with a frustrated sound. </p>
<p>“Yeah?” Daisy nudged his shoulder. </p>
<p>“He doesn’t want to talk to me,” Jon admitted, “or h-he can’t talk to me. Peter Lukas won’t let him, or…something. I still don’t really <em> understand </em>what’s happening. And I’m worried, of course, but…” Jon shook his head and trailed off. </p>
<p>“But?” </p>
<p>“But after all this, I just - after everything, maybe the craziest part is that I still trust him.” Jon gave a weak laugh. “I used to be so paranoid around everyone here, but now I - it’s just about the only thing I <em> can </em>do, is to trust him. So, I do, I trust that he’s doing what he thinks is right.” </p>
<p>“That’s pretty impressive, if you ask me,” Daisy said. </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Jon said, “I suppose so.” They fell quiet again. </p>
<p>As a general rule, Daisy tried not to think of Buried, but sitting in this cramped, dimly lit basement office, with Jon next to her, the memories came tugging at her brain. </p>
<p>“Do you-” Daisy started and stopped. She clenched her hands by her sides for a second, fingernails digging into her palms before she relaxed them, and instead wrapped her arms loosely around her ribcage. “Do you ever remember the way it sang? The Buried, I mean,” she added, catching Jon’s confused expression. </p>
<p>“I…don’t know. I still <em>can </em>remember it, of course, but I don’t - I don’t think of it often, I suppose.” Jon scratched the back of his neck and peered up at her. “Why?” </p>
<p>“I don’t know,” Daisy said honestly. “It was just…it was beautiful and it was terrifying, and sometimes I think I can still hear it, you know? Like it’s still out there, or something, hiding in a different song, and one day I’ll hear it and just get sucked underground again.” </p>
<p>Jon moved as though he was going to lay a hand on Daisy’s arm, but then moved it back as he clearly reconsidered. “You’re not in the Buried anymore,” he said quietly, reassuringly. </p>
<p>“I know,” Daisy said, “but sometimes it feels like I brought bits of it out with me, you know?” </p>
<p>“I know,” Jon said. Daisy looked at him out of the corner of her eye and knew he was telling the truth. She didn’t know what to say next, so they lapsed once more into a now comfortable silence. Daisy listened to the quiet ticking of the clock on the wall for a few minutes before thinking to glance at the time again. Unsurprisingly, it had only grown later, and she glanced over at Jon. He didn’t look very tired, or least, not any more tired than usual. </p>
<p>“I’m not keeping you up, am I?” Daisy asked. “I just - I haven’t been sleeping well, and it’s late, and I don’t want you to stay up just for-”</p>
<p>“No, no,” Jon said, “I wasn’t - I don’t really sleep well here, either.” </p>
<p>“Oh. Alright, then.” Daisy straightened up a bit. They fell quiet again, and Daisy picked at a scab on her arm. She’d run out of conversation topics for the moment. </p>
<p>“So…” Jon started slowly, clearly casting around in his mind for something to say to break the quiet hum of the room, “what do you usually do around here when you can’t sleep?” </p>
<p>“Oh.” Daisy thought for a second. “I guess I just pace out in the hallways until my legs get tired, and then I’ll try to sleep again. That’s what I was doing tonight, before I saw your light on. Sometimes if I know I’m not going to sleep at all, I’ll listen to radio shows on my phone, podcasts, stuff like that. Trying to get caught up on all my favorites right now.” </p>
<p>“Anything good?” </p>
<p><em> “The Archers?” </em>Daisy offered. Jon gave a loud cough that sounded suspiciously like a snort of laughter. </p>
<p>“The-the radio <em> soap opera?” </em> he asked, and suddenly he sat up a little straighter. “BBC’s most popular radio show, and the world’s longest-running drama, broadcasting since-”</p>
<p>“1951, yep. And stop Knowing things about my radio show, yeah?” </p>
<p>“Right, I - sorry.”</p>
<p>“Whatever.” Daisy rolled her eyes, but a sly smile crossed her face all the same. “Why don’t you just listen to an episode with me instead of getting all your facts from the Eye?” </p>
<p>“Oh, I…” Jon looked shiftily towards the door. </p>
<p>“Come on,” Daisy said, “I’m eight months behind and you know - I mean, you probably <em> Know </em> - they’ve got near daily episodes. And it’s almost three in the morning. It’s not like you’re not going to get much more work done at this point.” </p>
<p> Jon heaved what Daisy thought was a rather overdramatic sigh. “I - Fine. I suppose you’re right.”</p>
<p>“Plus,” Daisy said, grabbing her phone from her jacket pocket and pulling up the right app, “with your rotten luck, I won’t even have to explain all the plotlines to you. You’ll just Know them as well.” She scrolled down to where she’d left off last time, turned up the volume, and clicked <em>play </em>on the episode she wanted. She placed the phone on the floor between them and then sat back, satisfied and content as the familiar notes of the opening theme washed over her. </p>
<p>Jon didn’t appear nearly as attentive as Daisy while the episode played, who found herself once more wholly invested and involved in every tiny twist and line of dialogue. Jon, meanwhile, listened silently and fiddled with a pen, clicking and unclicking it. But, by the time the episode ended, and although he’d be loathe to admit it, Jon was just as hooked, and there was no pretending he wasn’t, because Daisy had seen the way his jaw dropped during the plot twist in the last thirty seconds of the episode. They listened to the next episode right away, and then took a break to discuss, Daisy filling Jon in on the bits of context needed that he <em> didn’t </em>actually get from the Eye. Then they listened to another episode, and another, and another. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Daisy woke up in the camp bed around noon. She blinked and sat up. The room was still dark, but seeing as it didn’t have any windows, that wasn’t exactly a surprise. She swung her legs off the bed and turned on the lights. Her neck and back <em> ached, </em> and as she ran through what she recalled of the night before, the memory of leaning against that wooden desk for hours stood out quite prominently. What she couldn’t remember, however, was ever leaving Jon’s office. The last thing she could really remember was laughing so hard her ribs hurt over a joke from <em> The Archers </em> that really wasn’t as funny now as it had seemed at five in the morning, and Jon snickering on the floor next to her. She must have finally fallen asleep after that, but then <em> how-  </em></p>
<p>“Oh, hey. You’re up.” Daisy turned her head to see Basira standing in the doorway. </p>
<p>“Yeah.” Daisy said. She squinted at the room around her. “Um, Basira, do you know how I-” she gestured to the camp bed. </p>
<p>“Oh,” Basira said, “I found the two of you in Jon’s office about half-past six? You were both passed out and…listening to <em> The Archers? </em> Anyway, figured the floor of Jon’s office wasn’t the most comfortable place in the world to fall asleep.”</p>
<p> “Right, yeah. Thank you.” Daisy smiled at Basira, a warm feeling turning round in her stomach. Basira blinked and returned the smile cautiously before it slipped away and she  shifted her gaze to the floor. The warmth lingering in Daisy began to slowly dissipate. </p>
<p>“Anyway,” Basira said, taking a step out the door and clearing her throat, “I should get back to-” </p>
<p>“Basira, wait,” Daisy said quickly. She shook her head, confused. “What’s wrong? You’re not - you won’t look me in the eye, you won’t spend a minute around me unless we’re sleeping, or doing exercises, or - I don’t know. I just, I don’t know, did I <em> do </em>something, or-?” </p>
<p>“No,” Basira said immediately, taking a step back into the room, “no, of course not, it’s just-” </p>
<p>“Just - just what?” Daisy asked. She didn’t know why everything she’d suppressed the last few weeks was suddenly bubbling up, but there was no stopping it as it all began to topple over and pour out of her. “Because, even when you can stand to look at me, Basira, it feels like you’re not - it’s like you don’t see me.” </p>
<p>Basira stared straight at her, nonplussed. “Of course I can <em> see </em>you, what does that even mean?” </p>
<p>“I mean,” Daisy said, frustrated and running a hand through her hair, “that you’ll look straight at me but it’s like you’re looking through me. Like all you’re seeing is who I used to be but I-I’m not <em> her </em>anymore, Basira, I’m not - I don’t ever want to be her again.”</p>
<p>“She’s not - don’t say that,” Basira said, stepping forward again and grabbing Daisy’s elbow, “she’s still - <em>you’re</em> still here. You haven’t changed so much that I don’t recognize you, Daisy, I know it’s you-”</p>
<p>“Do you?” Daisy wrenched her arm away and took a step back, staring up at Basira. </p>
<p>Basira scoffed. “Of <em> course </em> I do, you’re-”</p>
<p>“Only I heard you, you know, when you were talking to Jon.” And here Daisy’s eyes finally filled with the burn of tears she’d been resisting for ages, and they spilled out, red hot over her flushed cheeks. </p>
<p>
  <em> “Daisy-”  </em>
</p>
<p>“And you didn’t know, you - you didn’t know if I was me. How could you not <em> know </em>me, Basira?” </p>
<p>Basira stood motionless in front of Daisy, hands half raised in a placating gesture. She mouthed a few silent words before closing her eyes and letting out a low breath. “I was scared,” she finally said.</p>
<p>“What?” </p>
<p>“I was scared,” Basira repeated, anger breaking through her steady tone as she looked up. “I was scared that after everything we’d gone through, that after Jon had nearly died, I’d finally let myself get my hopes up, and that somehow we’d managed to bring home the wrong person. I knew it was you, of course I did, but you were so different, and I couldn’t - it didn’t go away, I couldn’t fix it, and I was scared and I thought-”</p>
<p>“It wasn’t something to be fixed,” Daisy said forcefully. </p>
<p>“Yeah. I know.” Basira chewed on her bottom lip. “I know that you gave up the Hunt, and with - with good reason, and I know that’s what’s missing, but-” </p>
<p>“It’s not missing,” Daisy said. She took a second to push down the anger rushing through her head and then stared levelly into Basira’s averted gaze. “It - it’s something I’m finally fucking <em> free </em>from. Getting out of the Hunt and out of the force - I’m actually able to find myself. So, I-I’m sorry you didn’t pull a ready-to-fight soldier out of the Buried, but I’m done listening to the blood. I much prefer who I am now.” </p>
<p> “I know,” Basira said, voice quiet, and she looked like she was teetering on the edge of saying something else for a moment, before- “I just miss you, sometimes, I guess.”</p>
<p>Daisy’s eyes stung again, and a crushing disappointment flooded her body, running cold through her veins. “I’m right <em> here,” </em>she said. </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Basira said, “you are.” </p>
<p>Daisy had no idea what that meant, but she didn’t get a chance to ask as Basira shook her head and walked away, closing the door behind her and leaving Daisy alone. Daisy stood in place for a moment, staring at the closed door, then slowly tottered back to the cot and sat down on the stiff mattress. She slowly ran her hands back and forth over her upper thighs, waiting patiently for the tears to stop stubbornly flowing down her cheeks. She sniffed and blinked hard, trying very much to not think about everything Basira had said to her. It wasn’t her responsibility to be the bloodthirsty Hunter Basira had tried to rescue from the Buried, and she told herself this, over and over, sitting on that camp bed in the Archives, that it was not Daisy’s fault for wanting to change.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Basira didn’t return until much later in the evening. Daisy had spent the day pacing in the break room, trying to listen to <em> The Archers, </em>but, for once, not being able to focus on the story. She was laying on the camp bed now, knees propped up, not even attempting to fall asleep, and wondering if Basira would bother to try and sleep there tonight, or crash elsewhere in the Institute. That question, at least, got answered pretty quickly. </p>
<p>“Hi,” Basira said softly. She stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the thin yellow light of the hallway outside. </p>
<p>Daisy sat up. “Hi,” she said, keeping her voice steady. </p>
<p>Basira seemed to take that as a good sign and took a few steps into the room, pulling anxiously at the sleeve of her jumper. “I just…wanted to say sorry.”  </p>
<p>“Yeah?” Daisy tried to look at her, but found she couldn’t, and looked down at her feet. She scooted over on the bed though, making room for Basira to sit beside her. Basira picked up on that unspoken signal as well and walked over, sitting close enough to Daisy that their shoulders brushed. Daisy tensed and held her breath for a moment, waiting for the rush of the telltale scent of wet dirt to press in, but a few seconds passed, and nothing changed. Daisy exhaled. </p>
<p>“I…” Basira rubbed her arm. “I’ve been thinking, and I shouldn’t have said what I did before. It wasn’t fair to you, and it - it wasn’t right to say.”  </p>
<p>Daisy snorted humorlessly and drew her legs up to her chest. She glared at her still-bruised knees for a moment before responding. “Yeah, you’re definitely right about that.” </p>
<p>Basira pursed her lips and sighed. “I mean it, Daisy. I shouldn’t have put all that on you.” </p>
<p>“Aren’t you supposed to?” Daisy turned her head to look at Basira. “I thought we were supposed to be able to tell each other everything, to be able to lean on each other through everything.”</p>
<p>“We are, but, I mean, what do you want?” Basira’s voice wavered. “Do you <em> want </em>me to unload all my doubts and fears onto you? You’ve already got enough to be dealing with, you don’t need my-” </p>
<p>“Yes!” Daisy erupted, speaking over Basira. “Yes, I want you to tell me what’s going on, because I trust you, and I would tell you anything. That’s what we’re supposed to do. Trust each other.” </p>
<p> Basira stared at Daisy before turning her gaze back to the blank wall. “Okay. Fine. Fine, I was…I <em> am </em>scared.  I mean, I’ve been terrified from the minute we found out you were alive and stuck in that old coffin. I…didn’t ever take the time to consider I wouldn’t be pulling out the same you that I lost at the Unknowing. I was just focused on getting you out alive.”</p>
<p>Daisy said nothing, just tucked her chin in between her legs and listened. </p>
<p>“And,” Basira continued, “I was even more scared when I saw you again.  I knew it was you. I told you that, I just…let myself get paranoid, and I-I shouldn’t have. I <em> knew </em> it was still you, and I knew you were different, and I tried <em> so </em>hard not to be disappointed, you know?” She took a shaky breath in. “I knew you were going through this awful, awful thing, and all I could think about was how much I needed the old you and, Christ, I’m sorry for that. But I couldn’t stop thinking about the you full of the Hunt that I’d lost. Maybe that makes me a terrible person. I don’t know.”</p>
<p>“I…” Daisy couldn’t think of a single comforting thing to say. She didn’t know if she wanted to. </p>
<p>“God, it’s just - everything here is <em>so </em>much, and I could barely handle the months I spent here when I thought you were - well. You know.” Basira sniffed and quickly rubbed at her eyes. </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Daisy said. She knew. </p>
<p>“But, I just-” Basira moved her arm, hand hovering over Daisy’s, and Daisy nodded and Basira grabbed it, their fingers interlocking, and for once it didn’t feel too heavy- “I don’t want you to think I don’t want you or need you now, because I do. I need you, and I <em> want </em>you, this you or any other. I won’t deny that things are…complicated, right now, but I’m not turning my back on you, that’s not what’s happening. I haven’t ever turned away from you before, not in all this time I’ve known you, and I’m not going to start now. Okay?” </p>
<p>Daisy nodded heavily. Her mouth felt dry.</p>
<p>“Well - right. Good,” Basira said, clearly out of words and smiling a little. </p>
<p>Daisy let out a long breath and leaned against Basira. Their hands were still intertwined, and it felt fine, and then Basira leaned back onto Daisy, the two of them holding the other up, and it felt fine, and Daisy dropped a gentle kiss on Basira’s shoulder, and it still felt fine. There was, for once, no sudden rush of mud filling up every crevice around her, no phantom compression that choked her into a panic. Daisy let herself smile, let herself sink into the one moment of reprieve she’d somehow been granted, and buried her face into the crook of Basira’s neck, breathing in the faded whiff of her floral perfume and the somehow still-fresh scent of her clothes.</p>
<p>“Do you-” Daisy paused, voice rough, trying to find the right way to bring up what still lingered on her mind. “Do you actually have a plan, or anything, for - for here, for what’s going on, or-?” </p>
<p>“I-” Basira took a shaky breath. “I’m not sure, I-” </p>
<p>“It’s okay,” Daisy said softly. </p>
<p>“No, I just-” Basira cleared her throat. “I just need to know - I <em> want </em>to know what you think about this place, this…this mess we’re in?”  </p>
<p>Daisy hesitated. “I mean, it’s bad, but…we’ll find a way out together. We always have before.” <em> And I’ll have your back, and you’ll have mine. </em> Daisy didn’t say everything she meant to, but she knew Basira heard it anyway, because-</p>
<p>“Yeah. I guess we have.” <em> I know you do. </em> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They got ready for bed soon after, and Daisy tucked herself into Basira’s side, and, for once, the closeness and enveloping warmth was comforting. Daisy fell asleep easily, still breathing in Basira, and didn’t wake till morning. </p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>“Basira, promise me something.” </p>
<p>“What-? No. Daisy,<em> no.” </em> </p>
<p>“Basira, when all this is over, you need to find me. And kill me. Promise me.” </p>
<p><em> “No. </em>No, Daisy, we’ll figure something out-” </p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>It had been three weeks since Basira had seen Daisy. </p>
<p>The phone lying on her desk - well, technically it was Jon’s old desk, but Basira <em> was </em>the only person left in the Archives, so she figured she might as well claim the nicer desk - buzzed, lighting up with an unknown Caller ID that she was all too familiar with now. She sighed, answered the call and held the phone up to her ear.</p>
<p>“Hello, Martin,” she said. </p>
<p>“Hi, Basira,” said Martin’s voice, tinny as always coming through that antiquated phone booth, “how are you?”</p>
<p>“Fine,” Basira replied dully. She began absentmindedly flipping through the statements strewn across her desk with her free hand. One concerning the End, another describing the Buried, four detailing the Eye, and at least a dozen focused on the symptoms and capabilities of Hunt avatars and the nasty ends that accompanied run-ins with them. She still needed to organize and study most of them. So far, she’d only flipped through the first few Hunt statements before needing to grab a drink. </p>
<p>“Right, yeah. Um, same here, I suppose. So - how are things over there, or w-with Daisy?”</p>
<p>A numbing weight dropped in Basira’s stomach and she swallowed, hard. She didn’t want to talk about Daisy. She didn’t want to <em> think </em>about Daisy. The dozen or so Hunt statements on her desk glared up at her. </p>
<p>“The usual,” she said, very deliberately choosing to answer only the first part of that question, “no real change, no real news. The officers aren’t quite keen on letting me in on all the investigation details these days. I <em> do </em>know that they stopped by Melanie and Georgie’s to chat, but with Georgie not really being as connected to the Institute, and Melanie…in the state that she’s in, they were cleared of any suspicion of knowledge pretty quick, and I heard that from them, not the police. Besides that, though, they’ve basically finished interviewing everyone else here they can find.” </p>
<p>“Oh, well that’s - good?” Martin’s voice went hesitantly up. “Have they made any sort of decisions, or-” </p>
<p>“Nothing that I know about,” Basira said. </p>
<p>“Right.” Martin paused. </p>
<p>“They’ve started referring to it as a ‘terror attack’,” Basira remembered, “but that’s again not something I’ve learned from them. Saw it on the news last night. Um, they also don’t seem to be searching the tunnels anymore, at least, not after a few of them got lost down there.”</p>
<p>“So, the Panopticon-” </p>
<p>“Yeah, they’re not really looking for it.” Basira rubbed her eyes, and sighed again. “They got stuck down there for over a day, so, just focusing on above-ground stuff for now, I guess.” </p>
<p>“Great,” Martin muttered. They were both quiet for a moment, silence hanging thick in the air. </p>
<p>“I sent up a box of statements up last week,” Basira said, the memory floating helpfully back into her mind, “so they should have arrived by now.”</p>
<p>“Oh, that - that’s great! I’ll go pick them up after this,” Martin said. Basira narrowed her eyes, detecting the strain underlying the cheer in his voice. </p>
<p>“How is he?” she asked slowly. </p>
<p>“Um, fine,” Martin said, apprehensive, “you know, a little restless over being cooped up for so long, and definitely ready for any new statements, but besides that, um - good. Everything’s <em>actually </em>okay right now.”</p>
<p>“Right. Uh, good. I just sent up whatever I could find - don’t know which statements he’s already read, and all.” Basira fiddled half-heartedly with a pencil on her desk.</p>
<p>“And, Jon <em> did </em> ask me last week, so, um-” Martin hesitated- <em>“has </em> there been anything yet on Daisy?”</p>
<p>“Nothing,” Basira said curtly. She didn’t trust herself to say anything longer than that. Her headache was beginning to come back. </p>
<p>“Okay.” Martin let out a breath. “I should probably go now, to try to pick up those statements before getting back to the safehouse.” </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Basira said. She closed her eyes, pressed her palm to her forehead.</p>
<p>“Stay safe,” Martin said. Basira nodded wearily, forgetting momentarily he couldn’t see her.  </p>
<p>She thought about Daisy again. She thought about walking out of the Unknowing alone, and slowly realizing Daisy hadn’t followed. She thought about the moment she’d found out nobody had found Daisy in the ruins of the explosion. She thought about Jon pulling Daisy back out of the Buried, grimy and different. She thought about wasted time. She thought about the way Daisy’s growls had echoed in her mind since the attack, the way her body had contorted as the Hunt took over, the crackle of bone as they shifted and expanded, the deepening snarl, all while Basira ran away. She thought about three long weeks with no sign of her old partner and the heavy promise hanging over her head. </p>
<p>“Do you know how hard it is to lose someone twice?” she asked, but Martin had already hung up, and Basira was alone again. </p>
<p>She had so much work to do. </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hi again and thank you so much for reading!!!<br/>title of the fic, chapter titles, and intro lyrics are all from meet me in the woods by lord huron!<br/>dialogue in this chapter taken first from mag133, and then mag158<br/>for more from me:<br/>my <a href="https://thirteenthdyke.tumblr.com">tumblr</a> - watch me have a live breakdown over s5 of tma<br/><a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/152UiZaBNkXXoykL1cXNiM?si=tdPwxpe6Tj-WW6_2Lxp6Xg">my daisira playlist,</a> which i had on loop while writing this entire thing</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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